


As Careless As You Are Certain

by gremlinquisitor (suchanadorer)



Series: Padi Hawke [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/gremlinquisitor
Summary: She can lean further out over the edge not only because she knows that he will pull her back, but because he knows that he will be there to pull her back.





	As Careless As You Are Certain

She doesn’t see the fireball. 

She doesn’t see the fireball because she doesn’t see the demon, because she is fully focused on the men in front of her, around her. Varric, Fenris, Anders. Were one to look at the situation from above, it would almost appear that they were protecting her, the way that they fan out around her, but it would be a mistake to think so. Padi Hawke is doing the protecting, and this is how she fails to notice when the mage fires.

The world explodes in heat and pain around her and she’s thrown to the side, bow flying out of her hand and skittering away across the floor. She knows that she needs to get to it; even with the dagger she keeps as backup, she feels exposed without it in a fight. But there’s not a chance that she can get to it. She tries, but her arm gives out and she falls forward, snarling when her burned shoulder hits the gritty wooden floor, her injured arm pinned under her body, useless. There’s a smell that she realizes belatedly is coming from her, and the thought makes the edges of her vision go dark. Or maybe it’s the pain that does it, it’s hard to know.

There’s shouting, and she tries to lift her head, to turn and look at the source of the sound, but her neck is stiff, everything hurts.

“Don’t touch her! Move, Fenris-- Let me-- Move!”

_Oh, she’s going to be in so much trouble._

Cool air flows out over her throbbing shoulder, and the light behind her eyelids is bright and blue as Anders’ healing magic wraps around her. It settles on her skin and sinks in, a weightless balm that seems to work its way under the heat somehow, pushing it up to the surface and away from her. In her mind she imagines steam rising from her body as he works, and she knows what he looks like - eyes closed, brow furrowed, that errant lock of hair fallen out and hanging by his temple. She’s seen him do this time after time at the clinic and in the field, even watched him do it to her when the hurt has been less.

“Come on, Hawke.” Hands as cool as his magic find her skin, gentle on her face, on her side as he guides her to turn onto her back. She swallows, her throat dry, and blinks up at him, willing him into focus. It’s quiet around them, all the enemies dead or driven off, and the realization comes to her that perhaps she’d been hurt too badly for him to heal until now. It’s a sobering thought, especially given how good he is at multitasking in a fight. 

“There’s my girl,” he says, holding her gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away, down at her arm. Hawke flexes her fingers, a stupid instinct - as if she needs to test how badly it hurts. The answer comes shooting up her arm and she grits her teeth.

Anders shushes her, picking her hand up with his own. She lifts her head enough to see cracked skin, raw and pink and red and inside-out somehow. 

“This was foolish.” His voice is little more than a whisper as he works, but she knows he knows she heard the chastisement. “You’re too good to be so reckless.”

“... was watching your back. There was an assassin--” Magic rolls over her skin like fog, and her head falls back in relief. 

This is how it goes. She gets hurt, and he patches her up and scolds her for getting hurt. She doesn’t understand why he still insists on the scolding, but he does, and she hears the fear under the anger, feels the way his hand trembles where he holds her. 

“You think I didn’t see her behind me?” He asks, casting a glance to the side to look at her.

“I think I killed her before you had to worry about her. You were getting ready to put up a shield, I didn’t want her interrupting you.”

He returns his attention to her arm, gingerly pulling aside ruined fabric. “You could tell what spell I was going to cast?”

She makes a noise of agreement because nodding makes her head swim. “I like watching you cast. You’re so…” This is the wrong time to admit that she finds it attractive. 

He tuts, shaking his head, but she can see that he’s smiling. She gives his hand an experimental squeeze, and it hurts less. He’s so good at this; she hopes he knows that.

“Is that why you keep getting hurt? So I can heal you?” There’s the smallest spark of amusement in his voice, and it settles in her chest, warm and bright like a star. 

“If I said yes, would you stop getting upset with me every time I get hurt?”

He sighs, the light around her arm fading. “I’m not upset that you get hurt. I mean-- I don’t ever want you to get hurt, but I don’t want you to be careless. This was…”

Anders shakes his head and sits back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s tired, circles under his eyes and lines around his mouth, and guilt settles in her stomach as she thinks that she’s added to that with this. 

“Am I cleared to stand?” She asks as she levers herself up to a sit. The room tilts around her, but only for a second before she recovers, one hand on his knee, steadying herself in more than one way.

He chuckles, nodding without looking at her. Fenris and Varric come to join them as she rises, having done as much clean up as they could. The foundry is a mess, but now they need to leave before anyone finds them there. 

She tries her arm out, rolling her shoulder and turning to look at her elbow. The skin is still pink, but it’s undamaged, like new, even old scars removed. Nevertheless, she hauls Anders to his feet with the arm that she hadn’t damaged.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmurs, mouth close to his ear when she pulls him against her. “It’ll take more than a fireball to get rid of me.”

She’s grinning, but when he pulls back to look, a shadow passes over his face. His hand comes up to brush her jaw, and he speaks with absolute certainty. “I know. I’ll never let that happen. I will always make sure that you are safe, Padi.”

Varric appears at her side, her bow in hand, and the moment evaporates around them, Hawke squeezing Anders’ hand before they all turn and start to leave. 

Maybe she’s wrong, to put such total trust in him, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like safety, him at her side. Knowing he’s there, knowing that he will always be there, lets her take these risks. She can lean further out over the edge not only because she knows that he will pull her back, but because he knows that he will be there to pull her back.


End file.
